


Little Sparrow

by Autumnleaves1991



Category: game of thrones
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28624023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumnleaves1991/pseuds/Autumnleaves1991
Summary: Oberyn Martell and his two beautiful paramours have arrived in Kings Landing for the King's Wedding. When the unimaginable happens and Tyrion Lannister is blamed for the death of his nephew he demands a trial by combat. Oberyn Martell thirsting for revenge becomes his champion, to finally kill the Mountain. His lovers watching in horror as he is almost crushed before them before a knife impales and the beast is slain. The Prince's paramour is arrested and her fate hangs in the balance. Will the Red Viper be able to save his lover? In the Game of Thrones, you live or you die. Which will it be?
Relationships: Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! You can follow me on Tumblr at Autumnleaves1991-blog! I post everything there as well!

Part One 

It was a beautiful day, the sun high overhead, the ocean waves crashing against the Cliffside as you held your arms across your waist. The boats in the distance swayed in the gentle breeze, and behind you, the spectators' excited chatter fill the stands. The lions on the banners seem to come alive as they snap in the wind. Growling at you and causing the pit in your stomach to grow deeper. 

Oberyn was insatiable last night training in the room, twirling his spear in preparation for the fight of his life. You’d escaped with an escort to walk the shit smelling cesspool of Kings Landing to this very spot where you had seen him. The Mountain. Man after man being cut down as his sword sliced through them like bread. His deep baritone laugh sent a quiver through your heart. 

You jump as Oberyn wraps his arms around your waist, his chin dropping to your shoulder. Both of you are watching the water. “Why do you look so worried, my little Sparrow?” he coos, pressing a kiss to your neck. “I am going to kill that man. I am going to get him to confess to raping and murdering my sister and her children. I will win, for Elia, for my family, for you.” 

He turns you in his arms and brings your hands to his neck like that night so long ago. His forehead coming to rest upon your own. You let out a shaky breath, “I refuse to lose you, Oberyn.” 

He pulls away slightly started, “You only call me Oberyn when you are cross or in insane pleasure, my love, and since I’m not buried in your delicious cunt, I believe you are angry. Is that correct?” 

You look into the depth of his eyes before dropping them to the ground. “Keep your eyes on me. Never look away from me, do you understand?” You nod, and he lifts your chin before kissing you passionately. His arms coming to engulf you. 

“You’re going to fight that?” Ellaria’s alarmed voice breaks the moment, the tension in your shoulders returning. He kisses you softly again before going over to the table and taking a sip of his wine. 

“I’m going to kill that,” his confidence is electric, and you step closer to Ellaria. Her hand reaching for your own as you both watch him with bated breath as he comes to stand before you. “Are you worried?” he teases her, and she scoffs before pulling him close. 

“Don’t leave us alone in this world,” she begs before kissing him. Their tongues twisting together, and you feel your mouth water at the site. He pulls back as the crowd roars to life. 

“Never,” he looks from her to you and back. “I love you.” He spins the spear and turns on the charm, the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. You watch as he taunts the Mountain of a man before him, before the Viper strikes. 

The scene replays over and over in your head. The moment he stabbed his spear through the thick armor of his belly. The way your heart clenched in elation at after so long receiving his most treasured of wishes. Seeing the man who brutally raped his sister and murdered her children confess his sins. Then in a moment, the elation bled like the golden skin of your lover. He was overturned and laid beneath the giant, a breath away from being crushed to death. The gloves the size of two golden pumpkins on a harvest feast table began to crush the head of the man you loved. 

Ellaria screamed, grasping her head in horror, Tyrion standing there in shock. You don’t think, running across the courtyard, unsheathing the knife from your thigh, and plunging it through the head of the giant. Blood spurting from his wound as the tip of the knife exits through his eye. 

Shocked, he fell to the ground, dead, Oberyn using what strength he had left to push him off. His face a mess of blood and sweat, left eye wide and dazed. Jaw most likely broken from the punch to his face. The right closed tight and crushed from the thumb of the monster you’d slain. The crowd erupts into outrage as your chest pants and anxiety sucks the air from your lungs. 

Ellaria ran over to you and embraces you as you collapse to the ground before your Prince. His broken body reaching out for you both. You feel his hand graze yours and look into the beautiful brown iris of the man you love. The roar of the crowd fading as you focus on him, feeling him pull you from the water as your lungs re-inflate. 

The maester comes and declares the Mountain dead before you are ripped from the arms of Ellaria and Oberyn by the King’s guard. By order of the Hand, you are to be imprisoned by meddling in a match to the death. You let out a breathless scream as Oberyn tries to get up, and Ellaria reaches for your hand. The ghost of her fingers slipping through your own. The Dornish guards coming for her to pull her back. One paramour is lost they would not do if both were to be taken. You fix your eyes on Oberyn as the doors shut in your face, and you dragged away to the dark, desolate dungeons of the lower kingdom. 

Two days. Two days of shivering in the darkness. The constant drip coming from outside as a summer rain drags down upon the concrete walls of stone, driving you mad. This must be what insanity feels like. No reprieve in sight for the unending torment you shall endure at the hands of these Northerners. Footsteps in the distance sounds, and you lift your head from your knees. The golden yellow dress adorned with the Martell suns now dirty and covered in filth. Your beaded headpiece you borrowed from Ellaria is cradled in your hands, your fingers grazing over the beads, soothing to the touch. 

You remember the night of the wedding when you went to bed with her. The way she watched you through her dark lashes as her tongue buried itself in your cunt. You laid bare for her in nothing but the beaded headdress against the soft pillows and furs. Oberyn standing in the shadows watching, his mouth curving into a smile as he takes a sip of his wine. The memory fades, and you look upon the cell door to see the vision of your fantasy, Ellaria, draped in a dark cloak, almost blending in with the shadows. 

“Little sparrow, are you alright?” her voice coos among the harshness that surrounds you. You crawl to your knees and stand on shaky legs. “You look pale. Have they fed you?” You shake your head no and place your hands through the bars, reaching for her hands. She lets out a gasp at the chill of your skin and furiously rubs your hands between her own. 

“Is…is he alive?” your voice is hoarse from disuse, but she knows who you mean. 

Nodding, “Yes, very much alive and raising absolute hell. He has been advised by the master; you know the old fat one who you said made your skin crawl?” You tremble, thinking of how his beady eyes followed the curve of your breasts in your dress. “He told him to rest, but he will not until you are released and in his arms again. He wanted to come here himself, but that Lannister creature refused, thinking he would release you and run away into the night." 

"How are you here then?” you ask, holding tightly to her hand as the other runs across the skin of your cheek. 

“I am like a cat in the dead of night; no one would suspect me to come and see you. I brought you some things.” She releases your cheek and brings around a satchel from under the cloak, removing a chunk of crusty bread, some hard cheese, and a small pouch of wine.“ You eagerly reach for the food taking a bite of the bread and uncapping the wine, taking a large gulp. 

Food had never tasted so good before, the cheese you placed in the fold of your dress for later with the other half of the bread. Who knows how long you would be in this hell before you found reprieve and were rejoined with your lovers.

You may never see them again. You may never see your daughter again. The gravity of the situation sinks in, and you feel the sob swell in your chest before it breaks free. The tears falling freely down your cheeks as she shushes you, cupping your cheeks through the bars. 

"Sweet love, we will get you out of here. You do not need to fear; Oberyn and I will return home to Dorne with you very soon.” You sniffle as she rubs your tears away, pulling you toward her and placing a delicate kiss on your lips. “I have something else for you,” she whispers against your lips before kissing you again and pulling away to reach under the cloak. “This is from Oberyn." 

She holds it out to you, and you tremble hands shaking as you reach for it. Hand opening and closing in hesitance before you touch the envelope. The smooth parchment warm under the icy fingers clenched around your throat. "Does,” you look down at the paper, “Does he hate me?" 

"What are you talking about? Did you not hear me tell you he is tearing Kings Landing apart to get you out of here?! Why would you think such a thing?” her hands grasp yours, and you look up at her through your tears. 

“I denied him an honorable death; I wounded his pride. He is the Red Viper of Dorne and his, whore, is the one who killed the Mountain. What if he is only trying to save me so he can kill me himself?” Speaking your fears from the last two days aloud made your heart splinter and crack. 

Her hands tighten, “My sweet sparrow, please,” she begs, “read the letter. Let it ease your mind and heart.” You hear the sound of footsteps down the corridor, and she tightens her grip, “I must flee, back to our Prince, but please do not despair. You will be back in our arms and bed soon.” She pulls you closer and kisses you again, slipping her tongue past your lips as her fingers glide against your skull. She pulls away abruptly and disappears into the darkness of the night. 

You retreat to the shadows of your cell as a guard passes the door and sneers down at you, spitting into the cell, “Dornish slut.” He walks off, and you let the tears fall like gems down your cheeks pulling the envelope close to your face. The smell of fresh citrus and bergamot drifting into your nostrils, and they flare as you transported back to your first night with him. 

*******

A light mist from the ocean drifting over your heated skin as you looked upon the night sky, stars twinkling like gems, each one unique and special upon the ebony backdrop. You hear the gentle footsteps behind you; he wants you to know he is coming. The Red Viper could easily sneak up on you before he strikes, but every click of his heel is intentional. Your eyes droop closed as you feel the warmth of his chest behind you, enveloping you like a cloak as his arms come to wrap around your shoulders and clasp around your chest. His chin coming to rest upon your shoulder as you drop your head back and lean it against his own. 

“I wasn’t sure you would be here,” his moist breath tickles your neck, and you shiver. 

“I wasn’t sure either, but I can’t deny that I want this. That I want you,” you slowly open your eyes and turn in his embrace, his hands coming down to your hips. 

“What made you change your mind?” his thumbs rub gentle circles against your waist, and you look up into his russet eyes, deep and velvety. 

“I realized I was only living half a life. Going through the motions but never really existing, until you touched me. My Prince, your touch ignited the flame deep inside me, and I burn for you,” he takes your hands in his and brings them to his shoulders and up to his neck. His fingers trailing down your arms and towards the gentle swell of your breast. Breath catching as his thick fingers grazes the edge of your heated skin. 

“Will you promise to be mine then?” his voice, accented and thick, send a tremble down your spine as he steps closer and places a kiss on each of your cheeks, his mustache tickling against the soft skin. Pulling away, he is but a breath away, his lips a ghost against your lips as his eyes bare down into your own. “I am a selfish man; I will want you all to myself." 

"What about Ellaria?” you feel his lips graze your own, and he smiles. 

“Do you want her to join us, my little sparrow?” He kisses you softly, and you emit a small gasp as he slides his tongue against the plumpness of your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting go with a light pop. 

“I want all of you,” you whisper, “and that includes her. She is as much a part of you; the moon belongs to the night sky.” His eyes glow in the moonlight, and he moves his hands down to the clasp of your wrapped dress, dark blue in color, such a contrast to the warm golds and yellows that surround you. 

“May I see you?” he murmurs, and you nod. His fingers move deftly to unclasp the small hook on the side of your dress, pulling it open. Your nipples hardening as the chill runs across them and his eyes widen at finding you bare beneath. “Exquisite,” he lets out a breath and allows the dress to slip over your shoulders and down to the floor. He steps away and circles you, your skin vibrating as the viper prepares to strike. His hands leave a blazing path as the pads of his fingers rough run over your flesh. When he comes around full circle, his eyes have darkened obsidian, and he reaches for your hand. 

Taking steps backward and leading you back into the room. The bed in the center of the room is large enough for five people, and you are sure it has held many more than that before. “Lay on the bed,” his voice is low and deep, and you do as your told, falling back amongst the plethora of pillows and rich furs. “Spread your legs,” you drop your thighs to the bed, and he groans as your cunt is displayed before him, glistening in the moonlight. 

He takes his time and strips off his robes, letting them drop to the ground in a heap. Your heart-stopping and restarting in quick succession as you see his impressive member. Thick and long curved up against his belly, he strokes himself as his eyes devour you whole. Mouthwatering as he pumps himself at your body bare before him. “Where do you want to fuck me, my prince?" 

He growls before taking a step toward you, "everywhere.” You clench, and a whimper escapes you as the bed dips, and he kneels between your legs, looking down at you. He starts at your neck and trails his hand down over each swell of your breast, his fingers twisting a nipple and eliciting a gasp as you feel the coil tighten in your belly. Lowering them to your stomach and down your thighs. Stopping at your knees before coming back to the place you want him most. 

His fingers gliding among the seams and then slowly dipping into the heat pooling at your core. Collecting your slick onto his finger and bringing it up to his mouth to taste. “Seven hells you taste better than the sweetest Dornish red,” he moans, and you watch with bated breath as he licks his finger clean, his tongue sweeping out to collect your pleasure. “I want to taste you little sparrow, make you take off into the heavens on a cloud." 

You whine, "We have all the time in the world, my Prince, please, please put your cock inside me. I’m weeping for you,” you’ve never begged in your life, but you don’t seem to care as he lets out a small chuckle. 

“You are soaked for me,” his finger running back and forth between your lips, making you drench him. “Should I give this little cunt my cock? Do you think she’s ready?" 

You nod, biting your lip, and he leans forward, notching his cock at your entrance, his body hovering above you. "Don’t close your eyes,” he whispers, bringing a hand to your chin, “You will keep your eyes on me this whole time, do you understand?" 

"Yes, my Prince.” He smiles as he slowly pushes inside of you, both of your moaning as he sinks deeper into your tight heat, and his eyes burn into yours. You bring your hands up to his arms and squeeze as he moves further in, inch by glorious inch, until he’s seated fully inside you. 

You’d had a couple of men over the years. Quick fucks in the stables or the woods where you once lived in the North. Stable boys who finished before you’d even begun or been too drunk to keep it up. Not a single one had made you feel as full and complete as the man above you. So deep, you could feel every ridge of his cock press against the soaked confines of your pussy. “Does that feel good little one?" 

"Yes,” you gasp as he pulls out slowly and then quickly shoves back in. The delicious snap of his hips against yours as your skin develops a thin sheen of sweat. He continues his slow, torturous pace until you are withering beneath him in agony. “Seven Hells, please move faster, harder; I want you to fuck me, Oberyn." 

He stops, eyes widening in surprise, "What did you call me?” Your hand goes to your mouth in shock, you’d never called him anything but Prince since your first meeting, and you worry that you’ve offended him before his voice drops an octave. “Say it again." 

Eyes never leaving him, you whisper, "Oberyn." 

"Louder,” his hips start to move faster but still not enough. 

“Oberyn,” you say it louder this time, nails digging into his broad shoulders. 

“Louder,” he brings a hand down to rub at your clit between you as he moves faster. 

You moan, “Oberyn,” it’s louder this time, and you feel the heat coming to a crescendo as he shouts at you again. 

“Louder!" 

"OBERYN!” you scream his name as he pounds into you furiously, sure to leave bruises on your flushed skin as you cum, squeezing his cock and gushing around him. He works you through your orgasm, rubbing your clit in time with his thrust before he slows down and moans above you spilling inside. His cum hot and thick, painting your walls as you squeeze him tight, milking him for all he is worth. He collapses to his forearms, and you exhale shakily, trying to catch your breath. 

He slips out of you and collapses next to you on the bed, his hand on his waist. And his other arm coming to wrap around you and curl you closer to his chest. You take a deep breath inhaling the sweet scent of citrus and bergamot that clings to his skin. His fingers tracing patterns on your back. “Would you come take a bath with me, little sparrow?” He looks down at you, his eyes alight with mischief. 

“That seems foolish, my dear Prince,” you grin deviously at him. 

“Why is that?" 

"Because I have a feeling we will just end up dirty again,” he lets out a booming laugh, and you smile at seeing the joy split across his face. 

“That is very true, but please, indulge me. I want to lay with you in the hot water and wash your beautiful body with my soap so that everyone who gets within in a foot of you will know your mine.” He bites the tip of your nose before smiling and getting up to draw you a bath. Watching his backside walk away, his golden skin gleaming in the moonlight. 

******* 

The tears drip onto the envelope, clenched tight in your palms. The edges cutting into your soft skin marred with the dirt from the floor. You squint in the dim light of the fire to see your nickname written in his elegant scrawl. 

Little Sparrow 

Your fingers trace the letters as you turn it in your hand and dip it below the wax seal, a golden sun of house Martell breaking it. Your hands tremble as you take out the letter unfolding it. Your chest feels heavy as though a thousand rocks lay precariously, waiting to crush. You heave as great sobs swell, and the tears flow down your cheeks, almost making it impossible to read in the dim flickering of the light but somehow you manage. 

Little Sparrow, 

I faced death. I could hear the screams of Ellaria, the light closing in as that monster lay above me, crushing my skull beneath his fingers. The sun peaked through, and I prayed to the seven that I would one day see you and Ellaria again. My children flashed before my eyes smiling and running through the gardens of our home. Until I heard the sound of a goddess charging in battle with a cry, and the great evil was slain. The sun returned to my vision, and above me stood you, my golden goddess. 

You saved my life. I have always loved you, from the moment I laid eyes upon you to the moment I believed they would shut forever. I will always love you. I will tear this shit hole of a city apart brick by brick and kill anyone who gets in my way before I let them take you away from me. 

They will rue the day they touched a hair on your perfect head. The Red Viper lays in wait, my little Sparrow, and soon, very soon, he will strike, and you will be back in my arms. We will be home with Ellaria, the girls, and our beautiful Serena; she will know what a fearsome warrior her mama is. 

I love you more than words can express. Soon, my love, I will show you all the ways I love you. Soon. 

Your Prince


	2. Chapter Two

Soon. The words of his letter flowed over you and gave you the strength you did not know you needed to possess. Another day passed, the rations that Ellaria had brought you did little to sustain the hunger, but you needed to keep up your strength. No one knew the secret that you kept concealed beneath your skin. The child you were carrying giving you a sense of purpose. Images of your daughter, Serena, her deep black curls billowing in the breeze, her laughter like the chime of a bell. You would survive for them.

A deep grunt and the sounds of feet shuffling echo over the stone walls, and you cringe away from the door as the keys rattle in the lock. A man hunched over in all black enters, his teeth crooked, head covered in a grey knit cap. Two members of the King’s Guard stand behind him, their white coats a stark contrast to the darkness of your cell. The gatekeeper shuffles away, and the guards part as another comes forward. You know his face.

Jaime Lannister, son of the Hand, the Kingslayer has come to collect. He sighs, seeing you in the corner like a frightened animal. His presence is doing little to soothe your nerves. He steps closer and kneels before you. “You need to come with me, my lady,” his voice is melodic, and he has a small smile on his face as he reaches his one good hand out to you.

“Where am I going?” you hiss, standing on your own, rejecting his hand. He slowly rises to his feet to tower above you.

“To trial my lady, you interfered in a trial by combat. In Kings Landing, that is a crime that is punishable by death; your lover has convinced King Tommen and his cabinet to give you a trial.” Your heartbeat quickens at the word of Oberyn, and he smiles as some of the light returns to your eyes. “Come,” he whispers, and you follow behind him until he stops at the others. They place shackles around your wrist, and you’re lead to the Iron Throne.

You hear the excited chatter on the other side of the door, and they creak as the Lion pushes them open. The great doors are swinging and clattering against the wall. The eyes of every single person are on you, and you feel yourself pause, taking it all in before a hand on your back roughly pushes you forward. Stumbling over your feet, you glare back at the grinning guard and keep walking. You try to keep your eyes on the floor, but you feel the burn as you pass the spectators who hurl insults under their breath.

Before you are three steps, and you take them, each step heavier than the last. Your hands tremble as you hold onto the podium and raise your eyes. The King no more than a boy watches you with surprisingly kind regards. The crown is a little too large for his head crested with golden horns, amber stones shining in the light. To his right, the Hand of the King, his grandfather, ordered the murder of Elia Martell and her children. And to his left is the golden-haired Queen Mother, sneering down at you over her nose, eyes cold and lifeless.

The King says your name, and you turn your eyes back to him. “You are here today because you interfered in a trial by combat; by the rules of the land, you should be put to death.” You hear a growl to your right, and you tense, not turning to look, or you shall surely fall apart. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Nothing,” you close your eyes, hearing his thick accent, “she will not be saying anything. She saw the man she loved being killed and reacted. You would do the same for someone you loved.”

“I should think my beloved would never entering into such a competition in the first place,” the King smiles at Margery in the crowd. “Alas, there must be some type of restitution.”

“There will be no restitution,” Oberyn yells, standing. You open your eyes and look over at him; he’s pale and using a cane with a snake carved into it, his face littered with bruises and a patch over one eye. “She is a Princess of Dorne!”

You grasp the edge of the stand and feel your knees wobble. “What?” the King looks around wide-eyed, “I thought she was his paramour.”

The Queen Mother interjects, “she is his paramour, darling. They are not married.”

“We will be,” he hisses, “she is going to be my wife, a Princess of Dorne. Her children will be my heir’s. If you kill her or touch one hair on her head, this will mean war.” The crowd murmurs wildly, and you look at Ellaria with wide-eyes; she smirks at you nodding.

“Oberyn,” you whisper, but he doesn’t even turn to you; the rejection stings.

“How long has this betrothal been known? We never received word of it,” the hand smiles like he caught you in a trap and was going in for the kill.

Oberyn reaches a hand out, and Ellaria places a wrapped scroll. “This is from my brother Prince Duran of Dorne, announcing the engagement three months ago. I’m sorry you lost your copy.” Tywin Lannister glares at the page, who hands him the scroll unfurrowing it and reading it quietly.

Ellaria whistles lowly, and you turn. ‘Tell them,’ she mouths, and you shake your head reverently. This baby would not be involved in this, but Ellaria won’t let it go. “She is also carrying the Prince of Dorne’s child,” she shouts, and you lower your chin to your chest, feeling Oberyn’s eyes burn into you. “You can have a maester prove it. I was with her when she found out.”

“Well, that changes everything,” King Tommen sighs, “I will not allow the beginning of my rule to be stained with the blood of a mother and child.” He thinks for a moment, “Here is what I propose, we will allow her to leave with Prince Oberyn and return to Dorne. I will put out an official proclamation stating that the fight was a win for the Mountain since that would have happened had she not intervened. My Uncle Tyrion,” he hesitates for a moment, “will be put to death for the murder of my brother King Joffrey.”

Cheers ring out amongst the crowd, and everyone praises the young King, but you feel sick. You raise your eyes and see the Queen and Hand glare down at you, clearly not liking the solution but unable to question the King. “My lady,” he says quietly, “you are free to go. Seven blessings on your wedding and new babe.”

Jaime Lannister comes and unlocks the shackles from your wrist, giving you a strained smile. You whisper a quiet thanks before retreating from the steps and into Ellaria’s awaiting arms. Inhaling the scent of jasmine and citrus that clings to her skin. “Ellaria,” Oberyn calls, his eyes turned away from you, “take her back to our room and get her cleaned up; we head for home tonight.” She nods and begins leading you away, but you can’t help reaching a hand out for him.

“Oberyn,” you cry softly, “look at me.”

He turns slowly, and his eye looks at you sternly, but you can see the touch of gentleness beneath, “fly little sparrow, fly far away from here,” he whispers. He turns to the head of his guard, “Guard her with your life; someone even looks at her strange, you cut them down. Do you understand me?” he orders, and the guard nods, coming to your side. “Now, go.”

Ellaria guides you from the room, and you follow her quickly, glad to finally be free. She leads you through the labyrinth of the city and back to the brothel, quickly shutting the doors and leaving the guard stationed outside. “I am so sorry,” she pulls you close, and you collapse into her arms, “I had to say it; he needed to know.” You were unsure if she meant Oberyn or the King, but you didn’t question as she whispers apologies and sweet kisses across your face.

“Ellaria?” you question, “my love, can we sit? I am so tired.” She nods and quickly moves you to the plush seating area, helping to lower you down.

“I will draw you a bath,” she goes to move, but you grab her hand and pull her down beside you.

“Please,” you beg, “not yet, just let me hold you for a little while longer. You’re so warm, and I’ve been in that freezing cell for days.” You yawn, and she holds you closer, pulling the expensive furs over your shivering body.

“Rest, little one, you are safe now,” she coos and hums a lullaby-like you were one of her babes, and you feel the grip of sleep posses you.

When you awaken, Ellaria is gone, her lithe arms replaced by sun-kissed muscles. A soft snore at your back, arms possessively placed over your small mound. You turn slowly as to not jostle him too much, but he has never been a deep sleeper. His eyes flicker open, and he looks over you slowly, his eyes taking you in. Methodically checking for any sign of discomfort. “Oberyn?” you whisper, “Why wouldn’t you look at me during the trial?”

He sighs, “I didn’t want the lions to see any vulnerabilities in my armor; my little sparrow is my biggest weakness. She is the one who controls my heart and enamors me every single moment of my life. I didn’t want them to see how much you truly affect me.”

“But Ellaria,” you try to interrupt, but he hushes you with a finger to your lips.

“Ellaria has known since the moment you entered our lives that she is the one that can tame the red viper, but you are the one who brings out the strike. I would kill for you a million lifetimes, my love,” he professes. You sniffle as the tears stream down your cheeks. “Now, come, my love, let’s take a bath together, you need to be clean after being in that shit hole of a cell, and I need to feel your naked body pressed against me.”

He stands and goes to the door, whispering something to the guard who walks off. A few moments later, servants enter and fill the large tub in the corner with steaming water. When they leave, Ellaria knocks at the door with some glass bottles of sweet-smelling soap and shampoo, smiling at you softly. “Come,” Oberyn whispers, reaching a hand out for you; his hands move to your dress and pull it off, revealing your flesh to him. His hands come down to the small swell of your stomach, and he reaches a hand out to graze it lightly. “Perfection,” he whispers, and you smile, pulling him in for a soft kiss, being careful to avoid the bruises littered across his face.

“There will be plenty of time for that later,” Ellaria teases, and he groans before pulling you over to the bath; his steps are slow, leaning on you slightly. Both you and Ellaria work to lower him into the tub; you follow after, he pulls you closer to his chest. You sigh, leaning your head back on his shoulder as his mustache tickles against your neck. “What am I going to do with you two?” Ellaria chastises playfully. “This one,” she points at Oberyn, “goes and competes in a fight to the death with a giant, and when he seems to lose, this one,” she points to you, “goes in and kills him. You both are too much adventure for me.”

Oberyn chuckles softly at the dramatics, but his hands move back to your waist, and you can tell he is reliving every moment. In a moment, everything good in his life would have been gone. He’s stirred from his thoughts when Ellaria rubs some soap into her hands. She glides behind you both to wash your hair. Her fingernails dig into your scalp, and you moan as she works the muscles, the sweet citrus and jasmine enveloping your senses.

You relax in the warm water, surrounded by the two you love most in the world, the Red Viper of Dorne and the Queen of Snakes. Though you would kill for them, and you have, not all would remain quiet and calm forever.


End file.
